


And So, He Did.

by Ahardboiledegg



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, and shes clueless for now, he doesn't really know her yet, its all curiosity driven, this is not really a romance fic, we all know what happens with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 05:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13780416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahardboiledegg/pseuds/Ahardboiledegg
Summary: It is hard to move on after losing something so great, something connected so deep inside one's chest. A certain type of interest will take away that weight, and allow you to breathe again.For him, that is curiosity.And he is curious about her.





	And So, He Did.

He was heartbroken.

It happened again, of course it had. He knew it was coming, and it left a gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

Never again, he told himself, just like he did every time this happened. Every time someone left, by choice or by force.

_Rose._

_Mickey._

_Martha._

_Donna._

_Rory._

_Amy._

There were short spurts along the way, yeah, people he saw once or twice, took them for a spin, but nothing stuck. He was desperate for companionship, but he was terrified of the consequences, as usual. Sometimes he believed he could cheat the universe, but he also knew that the universe was a harsh mistress, and she took what she wanted, quick and easy. And in the end, he was alone. Every time, he made the mistake, and every time, he was left alone.

He was done with it. He was done with losing those he held so close, having to ignore every goodbye as a pass for what could be better, what he knew could have been better. He was tired of being left.

Sorrow and loneliness stuck to the insides of his lungs like tar, and it was times like this that he wished that maybe, just for a moment, he could drown in the feeling.

He had lived eleven lives up until this point, and every one of them saw a friend, a family member, a lover, gone. Never to be gotten back, never to be had and held and seen.

He hid away, fear set deep into his chest like a rock, a rock disguised as anger. Not a very good disguise, that one, but good enough to keep himself convinced, and at this point, that was all that he cared about. The idea of bringing someone, seeing another person dance around the console as he flicked switches, grinned and laughed, it drew him in, _(it always did)_ , but he knew the loss would be too great.

_(It always was.)_

* * *

 

She found him soon after, though he did his best to stay away. She always found him, and they never knew why, either one of them. They had met before—he had a different face, and she had the same, though that lifetime was long past _(or yet to come?)_ and she would never know of it, not like this, not now.

They were both mysteries, to each other, at least, and that drew them together. Well, her to him, at least. He refused to connect, to talk, to allow her this once in her life. _(One that would be far too short for his taste, he would soon find.)_

He still had tar in his lungs, a frown on his lips and a furrow in his brow, and she was sure she could wipe that away with a grin, soft spoken jokes, and a promise to meet again.

She didn’t know about the tar, though.

He wanted to get rid of her, but she insisted she stay. She’d be of help, she promised. She’d help them figure this out, and she was right, she did. She was always right, the little boss.

She helped as she promised she would, and she promised to follow, he promised to show her the stars. She promised. _(They always did.)_

He lost her the same way he lost them all, and against every one of his cells, begging and pleading, remind him over and over about how he doesn’t like endings, he stayed.

He changed the pattern, and stayed until the light left her eyes, until her hand went limp, until her once flushed and warm skin went pale and cool. He stayed for her, for once.

He had given her a key, given her a way out and a life against the stars _(though he was sure none would shine as brightly as her)_ , and he saved her town, their earth. Their earth.

He thought he may regret it. He thought the fear would return, the tar would fill his lungs as her hand fell still in his, that he would drown and die alongside her, but… he did not.

The shine that had filled her to the brim, that had burst out in the form of contagious grins and loud laughter—the drive she had, was now his. She had given him a gift far greater than any gift he could give her.

He stuck around, just to see her taken care of. To see that she was adored by those around her, buried as the brave woman that he knew her to be. _(He knew this, even in the short time that they had met.)_

The day they put her into the earth was quiet, just like any other winter day, and he remembered her gift, the light she had placed inside of him in her final moments, with a small silver key pressed into the fading warmth of her hand.

He saw her name, read and understood those three words that clouded his mind like the densest of fog, making his eyes widen and his brows furrow as she, impossibly, gave him another gift. _(Curiosity.)_

In that moment, he remembered her. He remembered another her, far away in a little metal box, stuck and waiting. _(And making soufflés.)_

Another impossibility, another spark in that light, another gift.

He was quick to bid those around him goodbye, a quiet explanation to those who demanded one before he was off and running, boots crunching in the soft snow, eyes scanning for a ladder, an entrance to his home.

He was among the stars again, in her memory. That was her last request of him.

_“Run, you clever boy, and remember me.”_

And so, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave comments and constructive criticism-- this isn't exactly my usual writing style, but I like to try new things, especially with writing.  
> Cheers!


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